#now i stare at the wall for another hour.

[zyhkoo]

🦢 daddy issues

hurt/comfort, gn!reader, father issues

( jason wanted to protect you from your father. )

Jason was not good at comfort, it’s not something he’s used to doing. What else can he say? He can’t reassure the person it’d be just fine, he can’t fix the problem, he doesn’t know if what he's saying was right so what was he supposed to do? The best he’d do is to try and humor the situation a bit, or just educate the person he’s trying to comfort.

But there was one person he’d tolerate comforting, it was you.

You had issues with your father, he used to have some with his too, maybe a little bit now. He could empathize with your pain a bit, knowing that he experienced the same thing. It was another night, and another end of a patrol. Jason was hopping through rooftops till he saw your figure in a random fire escape. Jason raised a brow under his helmet, didn’t your patrol ended an hour ago?

You sat silently, staring into the night below you, a sigh escaping from your lips. A quiet and somber look on your face. You seemed to be lost in thought, not even realizing that Jason was there. He could tell something was wrong, he debated if he should call out your name to get your attention, or just keep quiet and stand on silent lookout.

“Hey,” he called out, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the night. "Shouldn't you be home by now," he asked, tilting his head at you. You looked behind you as you only tiredly smiled, “Well, yeah.” you confirmed as you looked back in the horizon. “I just don’t feel like going home right now.” you tell him.

Jason studied you for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask. “You don’t wanna go home?” Jason repeated, a hint of skepticism in his tone, “Why, did somethin’ happen?“

He leaned against the railing next to you, looking at you with concern. You looked down at your hands as you fiddled with them, “I forgot that there was a family gathering earlier, dad couldn’t find me in my room cause I was well.. patrolling so he said I can’t come home tonight.” you explained to him.

You sighed as you rubbed your face, “I can’t just tell him I’m a masked vigilante. I can’t just ignore my duty either.” Jason could see the exhaustion on your face, you looked tired, both physically and mentally. .

He shook his head slightly as he looked off into the distance. “This is the life you chose,” he reminded you, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “You can’t expect to have both. You either dedicate yourself to this, or you stick with your family.”

He paused for a moment, then spoke again, his tone a little gentler, “You gotta decide what’s more important.”

“You shouldn’t stay out here all night,” Jason stated gruffly, “You’ll freeze to death. You shook your head, “No, no, it’s okay I’ll just go to the manor.” you protested.

Jason let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Stop being stubborn and just come with me,” he said, his tone gruff. He grabbed your arm and started to drag you down the stairs, “Wayne Manor is too far. You’re coming with me tonight, no complaints.”

Jason led you in another apartment, he cracked open the window and gestured for you to come in first. You sighed in resignation and climbed through the window. Jason followed you, hopping through the window almost effortlessly.

You found yourself standing in what appeared to be a small, modest apartment. There was a small living area with a couch and TV, a little kitchen, and a small hallway that led to a bedroom and a bathroom. It was sparsely furnished, looking like it only had the essentials for someone to survive.

You gazed over to the display case. You couldn't help but stare at the assortment of weapons, knives, and guns that were displayed behind glass. They were all in perfect condition, each one looked like it had been cared for, like a collection of works of art.

"Impressive, right?" Jason remarked, leaning against the wall as he followed your gaze, “They are.” you answered him.

“Right, you want a drink? Let me get you juice or somethin’ while you remove your armor.” Jason gestured to the couch before making his way to the kitchen. He looked into the refrigerator, trying to find something he thought you'd like. He found a bottle of strawberry milk juice, grabbed two glasses before pouring some for you and himself. He returned to the living room, handing you a glass.

You chuckled to yourself, “You drink this?” Jason looked at you, a slight scowl on his face. "Shut up," he grumbled, taking a sip of his juice. "Steph left it.”

"Can’t let it go to waste though," he grumbled, "Besides, I needed something sweet tonight." He watched your figure as you drank your drink. Your feet were curled up on the couch and your armor was placed on his table. He could tell by your eyes that your mind was clouding from thoughts. “You still thinkin’ about your dad?” he asked, breaking the silence in the room.

Your thoughts snapped as you looked at him, “A bit.”Jason leaned back against the couch, studying you for a moment before speaking up again. "Don't let it get to you," he said, "Family problems… they're a pain in the ass to deal with." You buried your head in your knees, “I just feel like I’m never good enough for my dad. He’s always dissatisfied with me.”

He knew that feeling all too well.

"I can tell you from experience, you’ll never be good enough for some people, no matter how much you try." he said, his voice low and gruff, "And for some, nothing is gonna change their mind." He reached out and gently placed a hand on your back, rubbing it comfortingly. "But you know what? You shouldn't let that get to you," he continued, his grip tight on your shoulder, "You're your own person; you don't gotta prove anything to anyone.”

“Why?” you murmured. "I don’t know, ‘cause life’s short," he said, removing his hand from your back and running his fingers through his hair. "You don’t want to spend it trying to be someone else instead of being yourself."

You sighed, “I can’t just.. deny something my father wants me to do the most.” you said “He gave me a roof, food, things— why would I repay him back by disappointing him?”

"You don't owe him anything," he responded, his voice firm, "Just because he gave those things to you doesn't mean you owe him everything in return. He's your father; he's *supposed* to take care of you." Your eyes darted to his, “Isn’t that what children are supposed to do? Repay their parent’s sacrifices?”

Jason scoffed at your question, shaking his head in disbelief.

"No," he said firmly, "Parents are supposed to sacrifice for their kids. It’s their job. Children aren't obligated to return the favors their parents did for them. Parents don't sacrifice so their children will be indebted to them forever.” You lifted your head up at him, processing what he said. Jason looked at you and caught your gaze.

He studied your face, seeing the pain and confusion etched into your features. He knew the feeling, he knew the guilt and the burden that came with trying to live up to someone else’s expectations and sacrifices. You looked away, “Sorry, it was just a mindset I had for a long time.” you said. He reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Don’t apologize," he said, his voice low and steady. "I get it. I’ve been there before, and I know how it feels." He felt a strange, unfamiliar instinct to protect you, to comfort you… to make sure you were alright. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. He took your half empty drink and placed in on the table. He set the empty glass aside and turned his attention back to you.

Jason could see the exhaustion in your eyes and the subtle slump in your shoulders. He knew you were tired, not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well. You tiredly smiled, “Is it obvious? He nodded and let out a little chuckle, "Yeah, it’s pretty obvious," he said, "You look like you haven’t slept in days.” Jason stands up, “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I got a spare shirt you can wear.” he said as he walked ahead.

Your eyes widen at his offer, you never thought he was the type to be that considerate.

"Are you sure?" you asked, following him as he led you towards the bedroom. He nodded in response, opening the door to his bedroom. The room was relatively clean, with a large bed in the center. He walked to the closet and started to search through it. After a moment, he found what he was looking for and pulled out a clean shirt. He handed it to you.

"You can change in the bathroom if you want," he said, gesturing to the small bathroom attached to his bedroom. You took the shirt from him and headed to the bathroom, changing out of your spandex. When you emerged, you found Jason sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you.

He looked up as you came out, his gaze sweeping over your figure in his shirt. It hung loose on you, the fabric soft and comfortable against your skin. He gestured for you to come closer. "Come here," he said, patting the space on the bed next to him. Jason reached out and gently took your hand in his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

"Don’t let your dad’s bullshit get to you, alright?" he said, his voice soft and low. You sighed, leaning on his shoulder “Thanks Jay.” Jason could feel the exhaustion seeping out of you as you leaned into him. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. The feeling of protectiveness that he had felt earlier returned, stronger this time.

"Don’t mention it," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just get some rest, you’ll feel better in the morning." You lay down on the bed, the fabric of the sheets feeling cool and comforting against your exhausted body. Jason moved to pull the covers over you, making sure you were tucked in comfortably. He took a moment to study your face, seeing how weary and tired you looked.

Without thinking, Jason leaned in and pressed a soft, almost imperceptible kiss to your forehead.

As he pulled back, he cleared his throat and looked away. He hoped you didn’t notice the blush rising to his cheeks. He quickly stood up, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "You should get some rest," he mumbled, looking at you with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty.

You frowned, “Not gonna stay?” He was taken aback by your question, he wasn’t expecting you to ask him to stay. He was hoping you would’ve just fallen asleep. He scratched the back of his neck, looking away from your gaze.

"I don’t know... do you want me to stay?" he asked, his voice gruff. You softly huffed with a smile, “You already gave me a goodnight kiss. Why not?” He looked at you, meeting your gaze for a moment before answering. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled as he removed his jacket, revealing the skin tight black shirt underneath.

He slid into bed, lying down next to you. He kept his distance at first, but as you shifted closer to him, he instinctively wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close to his side. He felt your warm body pressed against his, your head resting on his chest, your breathing steady and slow.

He couldn’t deny that this felt...good. Comforting, in a way he wasn’t used to. But as he lay there, holding you, his thoughts wandered to the implications of this situation. He knew you were friends, but there was something more to this, something he couldn’t ignore.

He cared for you, more than just a friend. And as he lay there in the darkness, with you in his arms, he couldn’t deny that he wanted more. Still, he knew better than to say anything. You were in a vulnerable state; he didn’t want to take advantage of that. He watched your face for a moment, the steady rise and fall of your breath indicating that you finally fell asleep.

The faint moonlight filtering through the window cast a soft glow over your face, illuminating your features in an ethereal way. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to. He gently squeezed your body against his, holding you closer. The feeling of protecting you, of having you in his arms...

He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

🐇 hello everyone! i made a discord server! please make sure to reblog, let me know if you guys are interested in a part two.

[out-there-tmblr]

Young zaundads wip (10)

***

It's fair to say Vander's distracted the next day. He picks up two left gauntlets that morning, and has to go back to exchange one. He swings the pickaxe and lets go for no good reason, clattering against the rock face. When he lifts a chunk of rock to the cart, he drops it a little late and it bounces off the metal rim.

"What is wrong with you today?" Benzo asks and Vander has to shrug because there's no way he can admit the truth. That his mind keeps wandering back to the weight of Silco straddling his thighs and the wet heat of his mouth. The way Silco kisses, desperate and focused. The way Silco had given him one last glance as he walked inside his dorm, that strong profile caught in the light, something uncertain and hopeful in his expression.

Usually, he likes working in the mine but Vander's spent today counting down the hours until the shift ends. He's tempted to go down to level three, to find Silco now, but what would he say? Nothing that he wants to say in front of a crowd.

He could send a message down but that's the same problem. He's not going to make a kid say something he wouldn't say in front of a crowd.

So he has to wait for the afternoon to pass. It's slow and painful, but he takes his frustration out on the rock, and truly exceeds the day's quota.

He's never been happier to hear the shift end siren. He ignores Benzo's mocking huff, and heads straight for the elevator. He waits for level two to clear out and then Silco steps out of the first lot of level three miners, elbowing his way to the front of the crowd and straight to Vander.

They grin at each other as the crowd walks around them. As the elevator empties and then gets sent back down.

"Hey," Vander says, feeling the stretch of his smile in his cheeks.

Silco looks behind Vander, at the other miners leaving, and then he's stepping into Vander's space, pulling Vander down into a kiss that's as starving as Vander feels. Vander drops his gauntlets and his arms around Silco, fingers splayed across his back.

Silco has a fist in Vander's hair, tight enough to sting but they don't stop kissing until the rattle of the returning elevator. Silco steps away, standing by the wall as the elevator doors open up. Vander picks up.his gauntlets and joins him, just before the crowd passes them.

Silco stands there casually but there's colour on his cheeks and his lips are already reddened and shiny. It would be obvious if anyone was paying them any attention, but luckily everyone else is tired and more focused on returning their gear and getting a meal.

Vander leans in as soon as everyone else is gone. "We should–" he says, unable to resist stealing another kiss. "Tonight."

"Tonight," Silco agrees, voice low and smoky. He presses up against Vander, sucking at Vander's lower lip. Vander pulls him in closer, one hand sliding down and squeeze Silco's ass, digging his fingers into the lean muscle and making Silco groan.

Silco retaliates, sucking on Vander's tongue, shameless and filthy. The elevator rattles and Vander takes a step away, his back to the elevator, hiding Silco from casual view. His fingers itch to take Silco apart, to peel off every buckle and scrap of fabric until he gets to naked skin. He wants to taste and touch and leave Silco covered in lovebites and scratches.

"Eat," Vander says, struggling for words when Silco keeps staring at him, sly and promising. "We should… eat. First."

Silco smiles like he's indulging a child's whim. "You want to get food?"

"Yeah," Vander says. "And then I want to take you somewhere private until curfew."

***

[black-cat-luck]

no one teaches an assassin

how to grieve

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

Damian is staring forward blindly, hands still sticky from not drying properly, suit still sticking to his skin, eyes still dry from crying all his tears. The room is painfully quiet, the last noise was the door slamming shut, still echoing off the empty walls. Damian is alone, the manor quieter than he’s ever heard it, uncomfortable and thick to sit in.

A new door opens, and Damian’s sight is filled with the face of his eldest brother’s, horrified eyes overlooking every one of the younger’s features, his lips move but no words reach Damian’s ears, his shoulders are shaken, but he doesn’t react, he doesn’t even blink. “Never forgive me.” He whispers, unsure when the words had managed to make their way up his throat, Dick makes a pained face and looks behind them, seeing their father’s bedroom door is shut. “I think you both could use some tea.” Damian hears those words, and then his body is cold as Dick moves his own away, taking his warmth and comfort. Damian seems lifeless again, unmoving until Dick is back in front of him a few minutes later.

There’s new voices now, Damian isn’t listening to anything, letting the hot cup burn his hands as he holds the tea Dick had forced into his grasp. He hears hushed whispers, gasps, curses. There’s other faces in his field of view, other worried hands prodding, pushing, trying to get a reaction out of him. He swats one away, and they’re at least grateful to know he’s aware.

After painfully long minutes, another door opens. Damian feels a chill run down his spine, and he nearly spills the tea as his shaking hands set it down onto the coffee table, head bowed as he listens to the footsteps getting closer, his heart beats loudly in his chest as he waits, and waits.

“Damian.” His father’s voice saying his name makes him cry, eyes squeezed shut as he bows himself lower, hands clenched in fists as he sits in his misery.

“Damian.” Hearing it a second time is near agonizing, he feels like he might throw up, petrified as he hears a few more steps, a new hushed whisper.

“Son.” Damian falls to his knees, sobbing openly now as he bows at Bruce’s feet, entire body trembling violently. “I’m sorry!” He chokes on his words, mouth full of his sorrows and pain, tongue feeling like it’d been split in two, he’s pressing his forehead to the ground, nails scratching at the tile, he’s never felt this kind of emotion, this mix of pain and terror, grief for someone who he can hear the breaths of.

“I know.” Bruce’s voice is soft, maybe it had been soft this whole time, Damian wouldn’t know. He can’t hear anything but his own cries, the ones that escape his lips, and the ones that he’s heard on repeat in his own mind for hours now. A hand touches his back and he flinches violently, worse than he ever has, pushing himself closer to the floor as if he’d been burned. “Please, son.” Bruce pleads, touching his back again, he waits until Damian lets him, and he places another hand on the boy, adding a soft pressure to his fingertips, coaxing Damian to lift his body up. The boy is heavier than he’s ever been, his grief dragging him as low as he feels. Damian cries out as if he’s pained, and Bruce doesn’t relent, eventually getting him to sit up.

Damian sits back on his ankles, face contorted in his despair, Bruce looks like he always has, and that’s what scares Damian the most, hands shaking as Bruce suddenly leans down, and hugs him. Damian is rigid as stone, hands opening and closing as Bruce squeezes him so tight he can’t breathe, face buried in his son’s shoulder. “I know you’re sorry, I know.” Bruce rasps, hands shaking as he rubs Damian’s back through the suit, and Damian can’t respond, his cries get louder, hyperventilating as he crumples in his fathers arms, throat raw as he screams, finally letting everything out of his small body, every noise and desperate cry is muffled in Bruce’s shirt, in Bruce’s arms, in his fathers comfort.

Bruce doesn’t let go even when they both struggle for air and have run out of tears to cry. Bruce lifts himself onto the couch beside them, and holds Damian in his arms just as tight as he had been. His son curls up closer now that he can, entire body engulfed in Bruce’s hold, comforted only knowing he’s in his father’s lap, it’s the safest place he could ever be.

The others are still there, as quiet as they can be, but on edge, alert, nervous and overwhelmed as they can only stare at the eldest and youngest of their family more vulnerable than either have ever been seen.

“I’m sorry.” Damian’s voice is hoarse, eyes sleepily struggling to stay open, staring at Bruce’s jaw, a bit of dried blood still staining the skin. “I know.” Bruce whispers, staring ahead of them as Damian’s hand grips his forearm, almost afraid to let go. “Can you ever forgive me?” His voice is weaker now, almost like he didn’t want to say the words, afraid for the answer. “I will.” Bruce responds, and that’s all Damian can hold onto, he doesn’t, he won’t for a long time, but eventually. One day, he will be forgiven.

“I’ve never felt that pain before. It wasn’t physical.” Damian says, sniffling. “Grief.” Bruce says its name like it’s an old friend.

“Grandson of the Demon Head.” Damian whispers, Bruce hums. “I wouldn’t have been able to get you to the pits in time.” He’s explaining, even as Bruce’s hold has tightened, he knows his father is swallowing down his anger.

“I don’t regret what I did. I regret I had to.” Bruce’s grip tightens if even for just a moment. “I know.” Is all he responds, Damian pulls one of his gloves off, licking his thumb, and wiping away the blood on his father’s throat. Bruce flinches at the first touch, but allows his son to continue. “You’ll forgive me one day. I can wait for that. The world needs Batman. I need my father.” Damian reasons, Bruce’s jaw is clenched, eyes dark as he stares at the empty hall in front of him. “I’ll forgive you.” He says, one day, he knows he will, Damian knows he will, so now they’ll both sit in their grief together.

Damian stares at the slight pink stain still on Bruce’s skin, the same skin he’d just seen torn open, the same blood that Bruce’s body laid in for thirty seven minutes, going cold, stained red, lungs empty of air. Damian knew he would never make it in time to get Bruce into the pits, he knew he wasn’t strong enough, a young teenage boy trying to carry his fathers body across the world to save him? It couldn’t be done, it wasn’t possible. But Damian was the Grandson of the Demon, Damian knew he had many possessions valuable to a hell crawler that would give his father back. It might’ve been easier to forgive, Damian thinks, if the life being breathed back into his father’s body wasn’t a curse. If Bruce didn’t wake up, and know he would never be put to sleep again. Immortality might have been a gift to others.

Bruce does not know what Damian traded for his life. Bruce fears Damian himself, doesn’t know what he traded. Bruce will never know, whether or not Damian knows, he will go to his own grave with the knowledge. A grave Bruce himself will have dug. Bruce is cursed to live through all of his children growing old and dying. Bruce’s own children couldn’t exist in a world without him that he is suffering the consequence of the same love he taught them. Bruce Wayne took on a mantle as both Batman, and as a father, and it is his curse that he is going to have to live with it, for the rest of eternity. Damian is sorry for cursing his father, Damian is not sorry that he couldn’t live in a world without him. No one ever taught an assassin how to grieve, and the son of Batman will stop at nothing to save someone he loves, even if they can’t forgive him for it yet.

[jhyoos]

Dreams Come True

Chapter 1: Breaking The Ice

modern au! hockey star! vi x idol! reader

inspo: @shouyuus

summary : reader, a weary trainee chasing fading dreams the more she is held back from debuting, finds their worlds colliding with vi, a rising star on a college hockey team. but as vi’s successes shine brighter and their paths diverge, the weight of mismatched futures becomes unbearable. vi “takes it upon herself” to end their relationship.

warnings: cocky!vi (only for this chapter), modern au!, little of college au!, and lots of angst for this chapter.

notes: im still editing this! but please enjoy!

The mirrored walls of the practice room reflected every imperfect detail—the smudge of sweat on your forehead, the slight tremor in your legs as you held your final pose, and the hollow look in your eyes you tried to ignore. The beat of the music faded, leaving only the sound of your labored breathing and the dull ache in your muscles.

“Again,” your dance instructor said, clapping their hands sharply. No sympathy, no reprieve. Just endless push to perfection.

You wiped your brow with the back of your hand, your eyes darting to the clock. It was late.

Vi’s hockey game had probably ended hours ago, but you hadn’t checked your phone. You couldn’t afford distraction. Not now.

As the music restarted, you pushed yourself through the choreography, your movements robotic, devoid of the passion you once had. You stumbled on a turn, your ankle wobbling slightly, and your dance instructor’s glare could cut through the mirror she was staring at you through.

“Focus or you’ll never make it.”

The words stung, but they weren’t untrue. You bit your lip, swallowing the lump in your throat. You couldn’t afford falter. Not when the dream you had chased for years was so close, yet so far out of reach.

When practice ended, you sank onto the floor, your back against the cold wall. Your chest heaved, and your hands trembled as you reached for your phone.

No new messages

You stared at the blank screen for a moment longer than you should have. It wasn’t like Vi to go silent, but maybe that was just another sign of how things were unraveling.

With a shaky breath, you typed out a message: “Hey are you okay? Haven’t heard from you. I miss you.”

Your finger hovered over the send button, but before you could press it, a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“You’re still here?”

You looked up to see one of your fellow trainees, Mel, already in a coat and standing by the door.

“Yeah, just…catching my breath,” you lied.

Mel bid her farewells to you and left without saying another word, the sound of the door clicking shut leaving her alone in the room.

You sent the message before you could overthink it and stood, grabbing your bag. The night outside was cold, and you already feel the soreness settling into your body. But what hurt more was the absence of Vi—the one person who had always been your escape from the endless cycle of training and exhaustion.

You needed her.

The rink was silent, the cold biting at her skin as she stepped inside. Vi was on the ice, skating back and forth in a sharp, aggressive movements, her stick slamming the puck against the boards with a hollow thud. It wasn’t practice—it was something else, something restless and angry.

“Vi,” you called softly, standing at the edge of the rink. Your voice echoed, but Vi didn’t stop. She kept skating, kept hitting the puck as if trying to drown out the sound of her name.

Finally, the reader stepped closer, her sneakers crushing against frost. “Vi stop.”

With a frustrated groan, Vi came to a halt, her skates screeching against the ice. She turned to face you, her expression hard, almost unrecognizable. “What are you doing here?”

“I came because you didn’t answer me. Again,” you said, crossing your arms against the cold. “You’ve been avoiding me lately and I wanna know why…I deserve to know why.”

Vi leaned her stick against the boards, running a hand through her hair “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy?” You repeated, your voice rising. “You’ve think that’s an excuse? I’ve stayed up with you until three in the morning when you couldn’t sleep because of a bad game. I’ve massaged your shoulders after every practice when you were too sore to move. I’ve made sure you ate when you forgot, Vi. But now you’re too ‘busy’ to answer my text?”

Vi’s jaw tightened, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I’ve never asked you to do any of that.”

The words hit you like a slap. You couldn’t help but let out of a chuckle, stunned. “What?”

“I’ve never asked you to stay up, or to take care of me, or drop everything for me,” Vi says coldly. “That was your choice.”

Your chest tightened, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. “My choice? You didn’t seem to mind when I was helping you through every breakdown, every bad practice, every injury. But now that things are hard for me, you can’t be bothered to check in?”

Vi’s gaze hardened, and she stepped off the ice, her skates crunching against the rubber mats. “This isn’t about you. It’s about us. And us doesn’t work…”

“Why?” You demanded, your voice trembling. “Because I’m not as successful as you yet? Because I’m not shining as bright as your hockey career?”

“Because we are on different paths,” Vi snapped, her tone sharp. “You’re barely holding it together, and I can’t be the one to carry you through it.”

Your eyes filled with tears, but you refused to let them fall. “Carry me? I’ve done nothing but support you, Vi. Every step of the way. And you want to act like I’m the one that’s dragging you down?”

Vi shrugged, her face mask of indifference. “Maybe you are.”

The words cut deeper than any slap or any ache that you felt on your body. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered.

“Don’t I?” Vi said, her voice devoid of emotion. “This is exhausting. You are exhausting. And I think it’s better if both of us stop pretending this will work.”

Your breath hitched, your hands shaking. “I loved you,” you say quietly, the words trembling with pain. “I gave you everything, and this is what I get in return?”

Vi didn’t reply, her silence colder than the air around them.

You scoffed “Cool.”

With that, you turned and walked away, your footsteps echoing in the empty rink. Behind her, Vi stayed silent, unmoving as if she’d decided already there was nothing left to fight for.

The outside cold stung your face, but it wasn’t nearly as sharp as the ache in your chest.

The morning was quiet, but not in a peaceful way. You had to skip your classes after an emergency meeting at your company. All of the trainees were scattered throughout the room, discussing amongst each other.

You sat in the corner of the studio, your knees drawn to your chest. Your phone buzzed on the floor beside you but you didn’t bother picking it up. You already knew it wasn’t Vi.

You hadn’t slept much, not that it was new. But this time, it wasn’t the pressure of training or fear of failing—it was the look on Vi’s face, the cold finality of her words

“I never asked you to do anything of that”

You repeated those words in your head so many times it felt like they’d been etched into you. Each time they came back, they stung a little less, leaving behind a dull, empty ache.

“Hey”

You looked up to see one of your close friends, Mel standing over you with a water bottle in her hands and her usual casual smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “You look like hell…”

You let out a humorless laugh “Thanks…that’s exactly what I needed to hear.”

Mel sat down beside you, sliding the water bottle into your lap. “Drink that. You’ll feel less like death.”

You took it without arguing, twisting it off the cap and taking a sip. Mel leaned back on her hands, watching her movement before speaking again “Let me guess, Vi?”

You froze, your fingers tightening around the water bottle. You didn’t answer, but the silence was enough.

“I saw her before I left this morning,” Mel said her voice careful. “She looked like hell too. I mean, hides it well, but you can tell when you’ve been around her enough.”

“Good,” you muttered, staring down at the water bottle. “She should feel like hell after what she said.”

Mel let out a low whistle “Shit girl…”

The instructor walked into the room, silence falling instantly. He scanned the group, a stern look on his face. “Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension. “We’ve seen what you’re all capable of. Today, we’re announcing the new members of the upcoming girl group AURORA. Listen carefully.”

Your heart raced as you sat up straighter , trying to calm the pounding of your chest. You’ve been training under this company for over 3 years now. You just knew your time would soon come.

The instructor called out a 3 girls names. None of them were yours and honestly you were starting to lose hope.

“Mel Merdarda.”

Mel’s name was called, and the room filled with automatic claps and cheers. You turned to your friend with a wide grin, though she noticed a flash of concern in your eyes when Mel caught your gaze.

Who were you gonna talk shit with now?

And then the instructor paused, scanning the room once more. There was a slight hesitation before he said the words that would change everything.

“(Y/N) (L/N)”

Your chest tightened. You barely registered the sound of applause as you stood frozen for a beat longer than you should have. Your name.

You had finally made it. 

[nknoxe-n]

≪•◦ Words That Hurt ◦•≫

Synopsis: Basically my 'unspoken' fic with no happy ending, you and Rin argue, he goes too far and you... don't come back?

Warnings: [angst] [pre established relationship]

w.c 580

The argument had been ugly—worse than any you had before. Rin’s words had been cutting, cruel even, and you didn’t know how to react. You’d never seen him so cold.

“I don’t need you hovering over me all the time,” Rin snapped, his voice harsh and biting. “I can handle my own shit. I don’t need someone like you watching every step I take trying to coddle me like some emotional invalid"

The words sliced through you. You had tried, tried so damn hard to be there for him, but no matter what you did, it was never enough.

You had tried to argue back, but it was pointless. Nothing you said could break through the walls he’d built around himself.

Finally, feeling your chest tighten with a mixture of anger and hurt, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the apartment, not looking back. You didn’t care where you were going. You just needed to escape.

The world outside was dark and cold, but the chill in the air was nothing compared to the coldness that had settled inside you. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back. Not after everything he had said.

You walked aimlessly through the night, not caring about where you were going, just trying to numb the hurt. You eventually found a small hotel and checked in, knowing you couldn’t face him tonight.

That night, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the sting of his words echoing in your mind. He had hurt you. And yet, the deeper hurt was the realization that you couldn’t keep doing this. You couldn’t keep loving someone who kept pushing you away, no matter how hard you tried.

The next morning, as the sun rose and the city began to stir, your phone buzzed incessantly.

Rinnie <3

I’m sorry.

I didn’t mean it.

Please come home.

Each message, each attempt to apologize, made your stomach churn. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that he was truly sorry, but you weren’t sure anymore. Was this what you’d always get? Empty apologies after he hurt you?

He didn’t stop. The texts kept coming, one after the other, each more desperate than the last.

Rinnie <3

I can’t believe I said that. Please, I need you.

I don’t want to lose you.

I’m sorry. I was an idiot. Please don’t ignore me.

But you ignored him. You didn’t know how to face him. Didn’t know how to untangle the knot of hurt and confusion inside you. So you just left him on read.

The silence on your end was deafening to him, but you needed it. You needed the space.

Hours passed, and the messages kept coming. He started calling, his name flashing on your screen again and again. But you let the phone ring out. You couldn’t deal with him right now.

You didn’t want to hear his voice.

The day dragged on, and as the night fell once again, your phone lit up with another message from Rin.

Rinnie <3

I don’t know what else to say. Please just answer me.

I love you

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you thought about picking up the phone. But then you remembered the hurt, the words that had cut deeper than anything else. You remembered how he always seemed to push you away when you tried to get too close.

So, you ignored him.

You weren’t sure what you were doing anymore, but you couldn’t make yourself go back.

[doiliedaze]

Thin Ice: part one

Hockey! Vi x reader

Warnings: none in this part

Genre: fluff, angst

A/N: okay!! so this is my attempt in starting a series about hockey Vi based on this dream I had months and the Sailor Song by Gigi Perez and Moments by MOIO okay so wish me luck!! also none of my fics are truly edited I just re-read them till I can’t and pray my grammar is good. Reader is kinda naive/one track minded and very insecure in this. I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT HOCKEY SO BARE WITH ME!!

───────┈ · ·

I’ve been skating since I was a little girl. It was the only place I could call home. Skating was the only place I was finally the smartest and brightest in the room since I was perceived otherwise academically…and I do lack a bit in the common sense area.

They say there’s a zone we enter when we’re aligning our energy with the activity we love. My alignment is when I soar through the air, or just don’t fall flat on my ass. It was another one of those moments, heading to the rink when I was stopped.

“What are you doing here cupcake?”

When my eyes focus on her I was taken aback as I try to quickly study her. Why was my roommate here? “You know I practice here.” I state as I lace up.

She chuckled as she looks me up in down. I’m in a black bodysuit covered by a pink skirt and leg warmers over my matching pink skates, my coily hair put into a bun by a bow. “The practice is reserved for the hockey team. Did you not see the schedule posted outside?” She says with a small smile, I tilt my head “they changed the schedule?” Her smile flatters a bit and twitches as she points to the wall. I make an “o” shape with my mouth putting the pieces together. She pats my shoulders and skates away. In reparations of me fucking up I stay and watch.

Our college; Piltover university offers an array of extracurricular activities and in my two years of being here I’ve never known of this damn schedule changing!

Number 6, is an interesting player and my roommate. She brings an obvious aggression that the sport needs but she’s so swift and fast. I don’t know much about hockey but I do know she just scored so I might as well cheer for her right? Wrong! Getting stared at and the small but big enough snickers for me was enough to make me wanna to shrink and crawl into a hole and dissolve into a sunflower seed and sprout- well you get the point. This pushes me to attempt a swift exit.

When making my hurried exit she skates to the edge and whistles at me to get my attention. “Don’t leave, I appreciate having a personal cheerleader.” Her plump lips growing into a wolf-ish grin as she stares me down, always wanting a reaction. “Well I’m not a cheerleader I’m an ice skater! No disrespect to cheerleaders though I mean that takes a lot of courage, I know I could never-”

“It wasn’t a diss cupcake.” She stated before winking and skating away.

My face has never felt this hot before! Today is the day of utter shame and cruel unusual punishment. Now I have to figure out a new place to skate because I refuse to make the same mistake again…or read the time sheet next time who knows!

I make a routine out of avoiding the rink around 5-8 so I go during the wee hours of the morning. Kinda killing my sleeping schedule but hey pride am I right?

I don’t skate to be on a team, I prefer to be by myself and skate for me. It gets lonely sure but no one has ever supported me in doing this. All the slick comments of “oh why not be a majorette? On a step team? Why’d you stop stepping? You wanna be any race but black! Blah blah blah!” Don’t get me wrong those are beautiful activities in my culture but black girls can be everything and more at once. When I stepped it was fun and I could feel the unity but the feeling skating gave me made me feel like the most beautiful and the closest to my blackness. So when it came down to picking what I really wanted I chose skating, and been on my own since, because girls like me don’t belong here. Proving people wrong has been my biggest motivation, maybe I’m being a hard-ass but I don’t care; it feels good when I do in the end.

This routine I was practicing was more than difficult…axels hate me and I hate axels but I’m trying to land a quadruple axel.

My mind relaxes as my chest thumps, today feels like day…something I tell myself a lot. My momentum pushed as “Pearls” by Sade plays. I push off my left leg to project myself into the air. One…two…three…four-ish? My spin wasn’t complete and my landing was shaky, but I can try again. So I tried again and again! Frustrated I push myself, my skates cutting deep as I try to gain speed. Leaping into the air I spin one…two…three…four times! However I land flat on my ass. “Fuck!” I yell and i cover my face and I can’t control the wobble in my lip when I hear claps.

“And here I thought you were sneaking out to do something cool.” Vi states as she carefully glides over.

“I don’t need that right now.” I mutter, “company?” She lays on the ice with me.

Vi and I’s relationship is complicated. When we met in freshman year we hooked up then we ghosted each other. Sophomore year we both joined the literature club and gained a true friendship with a side of fucking whenever we’re both single. Now junior year I just feel distant with her.

She rubbed my cheek, “you don’t talk to me anymore.” I move from her touch…wishing I didn’t I know reaching out is hard for her. “I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry do better” she stood up shoving her hands in her pockets. “C’mon we’re going out.” I know not to argue so I oblige.

“The library?” I scoff in a whisper, “we are English majors.” She nudges me with her shoulder and I nudge her back.

We find a cozy nook and read our respective books. The two of us haven’t hung out in so long. I didn’t realize how much I missed her. I take her book. “Hey!” She reaches over me. Her pale blue eyes stare into my dark brown eyes. A soft blush spreads over her freckled cheeks and her eyebrows soften. “I miss you” we both whisper then laugh. Vi moves from me and takes my hand.

I’ve never been the type of person to be comfortable around others, wanting to be apart of a team but with Vi…I want to try everything.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: im so excited to start this series!! I wanted to challenge myself and I hope you guys enjoy <3

(Dividers by @dollywons)

[thefearfulheart]

Been awhile since I’ve last posted something on Parkour Civilisation and Clownbo (so sorry about that my work was busting my butt lately ahaha) but I have a small au idea for people here if they want it that lets me combined something else I absolutely love as well

Vampire Evbo x Vampire Hunter Clown that’s set in a modern au

So, to start off the premise, Evbo is a recently turned vampire that was completely an accident after Seawatt (who was his then boyfriend at the time but is no longer that :)) decided to finally feed on him after luring him back to his place that he was temporarily staying at and then left him pretty much to die after using him for his blood…unfortunately for Seawatt he didn’t end up realising that he actually turned Evbo and when the blond woke after it-to say the least-he was confused. Evbo tries to find Seawatt again after finding the large amount of blood that seemed to be spilt around him, the aching pit that gnaws at his stomach painful and his sudden avoidance of the sun…well, Evbo ends up finding that Seawatt is completely gone now and he has to figure out what happened on his own.

He ends up researching his symptoms, thinking that he’s just sick possibly to deny what’s happening to him as he grows more and more hungrier each day, and he grows paler each passing day until he’s backed into a corner by someone trying to rob him…something tight in his guts pulling hard onto him as he feels his teeth ache with pain and his eyes darken as the robber gets closer towards him, tension bubbling underneath his skin until they’re just a breath away…and then he pounces on them, his fingers tearing into them as his teeth latch onto their neck and he tastes the sweet, tart taste of blood filling his mouth and he’s gone. A blind hunger overtakes him and he doesn’t awaken from it until he finds himself at his home, alone and washing out the blood from his clothes in the sink. The taste of blood fresh in his mouth as he stares into the bathroom tub in horror-his eyes reflecting off the murky, bloodied surface of it-and he slowly brings a hand to his mouth to breath, trying to find purchase as he throws himself away from the bathtub and slides down the wall opposite it with a pained noise escaping him.

He’s finally figured out he isn’t ‘sick’ now and that it’s something much worse….

Clown enters later on when Evbo has established himself a bit more and kinda has figured out what he can do to satiate his hunger without hurting people, his first kill still fresh in his mind. He tries to use animal blood to satiate his hunger but that thirst for human blood haunts his waking hours even as he drinks animal blood, a pungent bitterness clinging to it that sours his senses and makes him want to hurl, but he resists the urge even if he never feels full from it…eventually he ends up making another friend in the form of Void who’s a werepanther (he’s so cat coded I’m sorry) and it’s going pretty good so far for him, he’s alive and well and he now has a friend that has his back in this! (Ended up meeting void after the other accident fell on top of him while in his panther form when Evbo was hunting and they became quick friends after it.)

He still hasn’t found Seawatt on why this happened…but he feels like he’s getting closer to finding him and he knows that it’s only a matter of time before he has his answers.

That is…until Clown enters the picture.

Something about the masked man-it has to be a man there’s no question about it since he bleeds like a man-has Evbo on edge and Void nervous when they first see him around time. There’s an almost predator like quality in the way the other moves-as if he’s sizing them up-and the way he stares at Evbo as if he’s taking him apart in his mind and rearranging him again and again. It’s something that sets Evbo’s instincts on edge and heightens his desire to bare his fangs at him, to prove he’s the bigger predator here, but he stomps that desire down each time it rises up.

Evbo first meets him when he comes into his work-most likely a barista in all honesty or something like that-and their eyes immediately lock onto each other, something that makes Evbo freeze in place and Clown tilts his head at him in interest. It feels like an eternity until Evbo gets told to go on break and he sighs in relief to leave while Clown watches him walk away from him, the air almost suffocating until the blond leaves.

The dynamic is very much a wolf among sheep x a sheep in a wolf’s den situation with Clown and Evbo since Clown is here to investigate the multitude of murders that have been popping up with the attacks resembling vampire feedings (something that is completely unconnected to Evbo but he unfortunately gets involved in it) and ends up finding the odd occurrences of animals attacks and deaths as well which makes him suspicious. He ended up getting requested to do this job as a favour from an old enemy of his (The Old Man) and was disgruntled that his skills weren’t being used for something more interesting than this but retracts his opinion when he finds out about the odd animal attacks and the strange blond that he met earlier that day :)

I will outright say that Clown is straight up human because I think it’s more terrifying for Evbo to go against someone with no special powers or abilities and is just so incredibly, terrifyingly human in everything he does. The dread of ‘just’ a man being so powerful while being human intriguing and terrifying him but also the fact that Clown’s blood calls to him in such a way, teasing and whispering to him that he should have a taste of him.

It sets something in him alight and he craves for Clown’s blood, thinking about the man and what he would taste like in his waking hours and resting hours. Something that consumes him obsessively that he claws at himself for the thoughts of consumption, the craving of the blood and dangerous man while Clown remains unaware of his desires there. It’s something that scares Evbo to the core and frightens him since he feels like he’s walking on such a thin, fine wire that would snap at any moment…and he’s scared of what he would do when it happens.

Specifically this song with them as well fills my brain at the moment

[fortifice]

gep playlist explained.

safe and sound / taylor swift & the Civil Wars. thinking serval lullaby sort of vibes here. general war vibes is also very much gep coded in my brain bc fight fight war war.

would anyone care / citizen soldier. very much leaning onto the when you are strong for so long you are also suffering. people not seeing what he's enduring, how exhausting it is to push and push and the battle has no end in sight.

heavy is the crown / draughty. it's for this one verse specifically about soldiers for me, see those who are sent to war die like lambs sent to slaughter, the toy soldiers being the guard upon the preservations altar. there's a couple of other stray verses here which feel gep shaped to me. a shield always withstanding.

Army Dreamers / Kate Bush. there's alot of tiktok edits going around with this song rn and they're all regarding soldiers who die early and that's very guard shaped to me. the chorus is also showing what they could have been and what they won't be because they will die young, they will always die young.

Running up that hill / Kate Bush. again, emphasising the encouragement to not express how it feels, about how it does hurt, about how the deal they made is going to cost them their lives. and the if I only could make a deal with god to change their places being regarding those who have died and Gep could not save them.

hymn for the missing / red. this is very much grieving the lost, what it feels like to march on as a soldier when people you care about very dearly die and you see them die. the only place they meet again is in renditions of their death and life in dreams and it's just reaching for them but being unable to touch. you took it with you when you left being the bond and the happiness that others create in your life. scars referring to the ones that litter alot of gep's body from conflict.

little lion man / mumford and sons. the not as brave as you were at the start really does speak to the way Gepard was when he joined the Guard and was filled with zest for protecting and where he stands now, the weeping could be grieving. you know that you have seen this all before, death, death more death.

avalanche / bring me the horizon. Am I broken, what's the chance I will survive reflecting onto processing grief, what it means to exist beyond the death of comrades, what it feels to be broken for the first time. the square doesn't fit the circle is very much Gepard needing to fit the paragim that's been inherited by his name and how he's not the perfect fit. the whole chorus just really reflects on inner turmoil, I cannot think how to precisely articulate it but it's like, the shaking of his world to the core by death and fighting and anguish.

monster / epic the musical. this is very much self reflecting on the things he hasn't prevented, the supreme guardian's corruption, working in tandem with that and realising how much you stand for isn't what you thought it was. men dying, again.

ruthlessness / epic the musical. this is sort of a aha the vibes are there for me but it's also Gepard father reprimanding him for being weak willed when you listen to it in my brain atleast.

my goodbye / epic the musical. thinking conversation between Gep and his father, thinking about how not viewing others as assets and weapons leads to being soft, sentimental, that he did not teach him this way. Odysseus' s part in this is him talking back to him, telling how he's enduing every single death that occurs on the front lines, that his father is blind to that reality.

just a man / epic the musical. survivors guilt !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

remember them / epic the musical. this is very much the preservation of the will of those who perish on the battle field, even the way he sings it really slams that home to me. the fire they continue to stoke is the will they preserve and the way they push on is for the sake of their fall brothers.

playing his game / death note musical. i added this last night thinking about sampard LMAO i don't have an excuse this is just sheerly the vibe of understanding each other getting under each other's skin.

[eskawrites]

today a very kind woman knocked on our door and asked if we liked living here because she’s thinking of moving into the building, and she was very sweet and it was nice talking to her but the reason she knocked on our door specifically is because she’s seen me, a loser nobody who has no life, either sitting on the patio writing or walking laps around the complex, and in that moment I felt so freaking called out about all my life choices

[todayisafridaynight]

[General fic. Jo Sawashiro and Masato Arakawa ft. Masumi Arakawa]

Sawashiro had joined the yakuza in order to reunite with the son he abandoned son Masato Arakawa, that much was clear. However, apparently he'd done too fine of a job gaining the senior Arakawa's trust and respect in the process: what would seem like a dream and perfect opportunity to some could only promise an awkward evening for Sawashiro as he was given the important task of babysitting Masato. By himself. When he had no experience whatsoever with children on his own.

But if Arakawa appeared to have enough faith in him, then what reason did he have to doubt himself? Plenty, really.

[keeps-ache]

w. hat am i sposed to do with myself now. dear lird

[nezuscribe]

gojo never imagined an arrange marriage with you, but now you’re all he can think about.

he thinks about you when he’s training, when he’s seated at his round table, when he’s in his bed, everywhere, every time, you’re all he can think about.

and you’re oblivious to it.

you heard the gossip everywhere you walked, about the girl gojo was pleading with his family to marry. how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, how much more elegant she was compared to you. you knew you were never his first choice, not even his fifth, but it hurt even more when everybody acknowledged it.

you stopped wearing your wedding ring, started acting like you were just another person there. luckily gojo didn’t seem to be in any hurry about making heirs, so pretending like you two were working things out didn’t even matter anymore.

you find yourself alone most of the time. your maids were kind and patient, but they had so many things to do throughout the day that you felt awful pestering them to walk around the estate with you.

eating dinners with gojo became normal, but most of your other meals were in silence, always feeling like a speck of dust in the large dining hall.

one day when you’re walking around aimlessly you stumble across the training grounds, the open space below you filled with men swinging wooden swords back and forth at each other.

it wasn’t difficult to find your husband, his white hair hard to miss in a crowd of others. he didn’t notice you watching from above, and so you stayed hidden, not knowing if the men were picky with who watched them.

he was swift and agile. everything he did was precise and with meaning. no wonder he was named the best warrior of the north.

you found this to be more entertaining than walking around the gardens for the tenth time or watching the cooks assemble the next meal, so you didn’t even notice how gojo looked up to see you, somehow slipping away without you knowing.

you were in a state of watching but not really thinking, almost jumping out of your skin when you heard his voice behind you.

“didn’t know i had an audience,”

you yelp, flinching as you look behind you to see your husband all sweaty, panting slightly as he moves his hair away from his face. you eye the stairs that led him up here, wondering how you could’ve missed that.

you laugh sheepishly, giving him an apologetic smile as you pick are your nails.

“i’m sorry,” you scratch behind your ears, feeling heat rise to your cheeks under his intense gaze. it’s unfair how pretty somebody can look, especially after training for an hour straight, “i was just walking around and i saw this.”

he waved it off, shaking his head as he leaned his sword on the wall.

“not a problem,” his eyes shine, “i just would’ve tried harder if i knew my wife was watching.”

my wife.

the words fall so smoothly from his lips you wonder how many times he’s said it before. with malice, hatred, necessity?

you smile a little bit, eyes crinkling around the edges as you look away briefly, not noticing the way gojo chased after your cheerful face.

“how’d you get up here? where are your ladies?” he asks suddenly, looking around at the fact that it was just you up here.

“my what?” you say, looking up at him through furrowed brows.

“you know,” he waves his arm around as if that would help, “you’re ladies in waiting,”

you scrunch up your nose a little bit, something he noticed you did when you were confused.

“oh, well, my maids are working right now,” you tell him, noting that he still didn’t look any less confused.

“no, not your maids, your ladies,” he tilts his head to the side, “the girls your family sent them up to help you around.”

you stare at him, unblinking.

“the girls that are your friends, the ones that help accustom you…” gojo trials off when he realizes he’s not getting anywhere with you.

you feel even more embarrassed than when he caught you watching him, hating the way you were clueless at yet another thing in this life that no one explained to you.

“the girls you hang around with?” he finally lands on, hoping this jogs your memory.

you shake your head, eyes wide as you fidget with the fabric of your dress. his eyes fall onto your finger, lingering on the fact that you’re not wearing your ring.

“who do you spend your time with throughout the day?” gojo seems even more lost than you. he’s seen you with…? well surely that one time…?

“by,” you swallow, embarrassed, “by myself. i walk around a lot.” you admit sheepishly.

“your family didn’t send…?” he answers his own question with his silence.

this entire time you’ve been alone?

he opens his mouth to speak but somebody beats him to it.

“satoru! get down here! we’re still not done!” his friends shouts from below, and you look over your shoulder to see all the men staring at the two of you.

gojo stares at you, unblinking.

“i,” he swallows but can’t find any words.

you can’t either.

he leaves you there, running down those stairs as he shouts at the other guys to resume what they were doing. that entire day he was off his balance because he kept looking up to see you there, but you weren’t.

maybe you were just walking around, like you said.

[euthymiya]

“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

[evandore]

he did not find it so i guess it simply went to the void

[madamechrissy]

Eat that girl for lunch

Nsfw- Choso x fem reader- explicit- pussydrunk Choso lol

Choso could eat you out forever, he can't stop his mouth from latching on your clit, sucking on it and flicking it with the barbell of his tongue ring, making you cum all over his face as you yank on those dark pigtails. He has been at it so long, you can't think or function anymore, cunt throbbing around nothing as you whine out.

"P-please... get up here..." He's staring up at you with those violet eyes, lidded and pussy drunk.

"S-sorry baby, can't stop. Need more of you all over m'face. Once more?" He asks, slipping two long, thick fingers inside your pussy, you whine at it, so overstimulated, his other hand pressing into the plush of your thigh, dark painted nails pressing against your skin.

"Can't anymore, too much, I... Choso!" You're gushing as his fingers fuck into your gummy walls, he's hitting that spot he knows so well, exhaling and flicking that ring on your clit again, your hips buck up against his face.

"You taste too sweet. You're too pretty." He's cooing as his fingers squish into your soppy cunt, you hear how loud it is in the room, gushing all over his fingers now, dripping down those black rings he wears. "You're doing such a good job."

"Please, fuck me... please..." You give him the puppy eyes, but he gives them right back, slipping a third finger, your pussy sucks him up greedily.

"One more?" He's back down, you're yanking on his pigtails, whining out, Choso may seem so sweet, but he loses it when he licks you, when you cum all over his handsome face, covering him with your slick. "Another?"

You glare now. "Choso! Get your dick in me now."

"S-sorry baby!" He leans up now, lining his cock with your entrance, you're so overstimulated you're crying, he wipes them gently, full lips pouting. "I got carried away again."

You exhale in relief when he fills you finally, it's been an hour of this, you're kissing yourself off him, tasting the sweetness. "S'okay Cho, please..." He finally sinks into you, walls fluttering around his thick length, piercing on his cock hitting just the right spot as he entwines his fingers with your own.

"Better, baby?" You can't manage an answer, but Choso takes your eyes rolling back and thighs tightening on his hips as a yes.

Choso needed a drabble aha- Choso fic heerre: Keep This Lowkey

[rafesweetie]

in which you’re forced into having a talk with your ex-boyfriend, rafe cameron, on the boat ride to morocco.

being a pogue and rafe cameron’s ex was not easy. although you dated shortly before he killed peterkin, and you were sure he barely even remembered your favourite colour, seeing him blatanly disrespect you and his friends, and go down a path you tried so hard to prevent him from, was hard to watch. but now he’s picked himself up since ward died. you thought you had another chance to at least be on good terms. sending flowers and a card to tanneyhill when ward died, smiling at him when you’d see him around. it didn’t work, he still hated you and your friends.

fortunately, he redeemed himself ever so slightly by volunteering to take the pogues to morocco. rafe had to find chandler groff, you guys wanted the blue crown. it was perfect.

until jj punched him, that is. he knocked him out cold. with a scolding “jj!” coming from majority of the pogues, including you, jj carries him down into the downstairs washroom and ties his wrists to a pole. they don’t trust him, which is fair. you don’t either — you shouldn’t, anyway.

rafe was down there quietly for a mere half hour until he woke up with a groan from his head hitting the ground earlier, followed up with yelling once he realizes he was stuck down there.

all touching your noses and saying ‘not it’ the minute pope suggests someone going down there to check on him, you’re the unlucky one who said it last. shutting up your protests, john b gently coaxes you downstairs, saying things like, “you used to mack on him”, “this is good, you know him”, “he won’t hurt you,” john b leaves you downstairs once you make it to the door of the bathroom. knocking gently, you timidly ask, “can i come in?”

there’s no answer. you can picture him. wrists tied, brows furrowed, eyes closed tightly as his head leans against the wall and towards the ceiling. his gorgeous stressed face. you slowly open the door, peeking your head in. “hi,” you say gently, timid around the scary and aggressive man you have the curse of calling your ex.

“…hey,” rafe says, voice rough as he shuts his eyes tight.

unsure what to say, you awkwardly stand there and stare down at him. “um, i brought asprin,”

“right, right, like i can fuckin’ swallow it. what, you gonna throw it in my mouth like a.. seal or something?” sassy, his upper lip lifts a bit as he thinks about it and isn’t very fond of the idea.

a second of silence as you figure out what to say. “…um, ill just set it down here,” you say, putting the container down beside him. “sorry about your head.”

“yeah, uh, your little boyfriend can’t control his fists, huh?”

“…not my boyfriend,” you correct softly, though you’re not sure why you feel the need to tell him that. “but no one really.. trusts you, rafe, so you kind of brought this on yourself—“

he quickly interrupts you. “bullshit. you know why that’s bullshit? because i was helping. who got you this boat, huh? me. i did. rafe. i’m the reason that you guys aren’t swimming, or some shit, to north africa. i’m being helpful and understanding, and this is what i get. you think that’s fair?” when you’re stood there in silence at his sudden raised voice, he repeats, “you think that’s fucking fair, y/n!?” he kicks a can in anger.

it’s like you’re his girlfriend again as you sit down next to him instantly instead of running. you get deja vu to the time three years ago when he was high on coke and got kicked out of the house. everyone ignored him except for you. “..um, okay, i’m gonna give you some asprin,” you say softly. “help your head. open,” you tell him, grabbing a pill as he gives you a look but opens his mouth. you pop it in his mouth and he dry swallows. “there.”

you two share a look. you don’t think it’s a bad look by any means. he looks frustrated still, but there’s an underlying gentleness in his eyes, as if he registers you’re still the same girl you were when you two were together. “…and, um, for the record, i don’t think it’s fair that you’re down here. you helped us, thats.. nice.”

the word ��us’ when referring to you and the pogues makes him feel weird. “i don’t get why you hang out with them,” he mutters as he looks at the ground. “tried so fucking hard to keep you away from them when we were.. together.”

“i know,” you whisper, your gaze dropping as well, to his tied wrists. you feel awful. “trust me, your warnings still play in my head when i’m with them sometimes,”

“you remind me of sarah.” he says. you’re not sure what that means.

“you hate sarah,”

“nah, nah— i don’t hate her. hate who she’s turned into,” he adjusts himself. “she makes me sad. i’m sad for her, alright? she had so much potential.“ he shrugs. “but there’s no saving her. she’s in too deep,” he looks back up at you again. “i think there’s saving you, though,”

“…this is weird, rafe,”

“how?” he asks.

“because in the years we’ve been broken up, you’ve never talked to me about this. feels like it’s a… trick or something,”

“it’s not a trick,” he assures, voice still rough. “look, i’m out half a mill, i’m tied up in a bathroom, i’m probably gonna.. die or something. i got nothing to lose, may as well tell you my concern,”

“um, i appreciate it,” you say gently, unsure how to respond. “and i’m gonna go back upstairs.”

“hey— no, woah, woah, woah,” he stops you quickly. “stay. okay?”

“i should go up and help with dinner, though—“

“no, stay. i— i want you to stay, okay? i don’t wanna be down here alone, and i want you away from the pogues,”

he doesn’t wanna be alone. you feel bad for him all over again, nodding gently as you sit back down beside him. you always were so good for rafe.

you’re not sure how long you’ll be down here with him. maybe until it’s late at night and he’s asleep. so gently, after about five minutes of silence, to ease some of the tension and pass the time, you murmur a, “truth or dare?”

rafe just smiles.